Beaned--the Full Story
by HelgaGeraldine
Summary: Boy hits baseball. Girl gets amnesia. Boy takes her home. But what actually happens after he tucks her in? What kind of trouble can our football-headed hero get into while alone in Helga's room? What secrets may he uncover? A short two-parter. NOW WITH (mid-movie) EPILOGUE!
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! or any of these amazing characters. I just get to play with them for a little bit.

A/N: Here it is: my first official fanfic-ever! This is going to be a two-parter and takes place during the episode "Beaned" where Helga gets amnesia from being hit in the head by a baseball. The chronology doesn't exactly line up with the show (I reference a few episodes that may not have happened at that point in the show) but for my first attempt at this, I'm focusing more on creating an interesting story that holds true to the characters as we know them. I have this about 90% finished and hope to have the second half up soon! Please R&R so I can get better!

Anything underlined is directly quoted from the show-those are not my words! Everything else you can completely blame me for.

Well, here we go!

* * *

"Arnold, what in the heck are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean,_ what are you doing spending a whole entire afternoon with Helga Pataki? And then walking her to school the next day!"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do, Gerald? This whole amnesia thing is my fault. I'm responsible. I can't just ignore her."

" _Of course_ you can!"

"Gerald…"

"Alright, but I'm warning you, this is _not_ gonna be fun."

 _Oh if you only knew, Gerald. There is no way this_ can't _be fun. Today is the start of a brand new game…_

Arnold lets his thoughts continue down this path as he grabs Helga's elbow to keep her from wandering off again and directs her up the stairs into P.S. 118. _Who knew that hitting Helga in the head with a baseball yesterday would get me_ here _?_ He finds himself reliving the events of the last twelve hours as they walk toward her locker.

He had walked her home after the accident. He knew it was the right thing to take responsibility for her and the position he put her in…

* * *

He hears a soft snoring and looks up from the homework assignment he was reading to her. With a small smile, he gets up and closes the book. Arnold spots a doll nearby and lays it next to her before covering her. He turns off the lamp and turns to leave her room; he's decided to wait for her mother to get home so he can explain what happened.

But something catches his eye—a light in her closet.

He goes to turn it off—he'd hate for something to wake her up, especially something he could so easily fix. It _is_ his fault that she has amnesia after all.

He reaches in toward the light switch and stops. The switch is off. He looks up at the ceiling and sees a darkened light fixture. _Huh, that's weird, where's the light coming from then?_ His eyes sweep the small space and fixate on a glow coming from behind her hanging clothes.

He hesitates. _Should I see what it is? No, it's something she clearly put back there for a reason. I can't invade her privacy like that. It would be wrong._

He lingers though, curious as to what she could possibly have hidden in the back of her closet. Helga G. Pataki, his nemesis. His schoolyard bully and sometimes friend. The one puzzle he's yet to solve. What if this is the clue that helps him crack the code?

He finds himself reaching toward the clothing and pulls back when he makes contact, as if he'd been stung. _What am I doing? Confusing or not, I shouldn't be going through her closet. I gave her amnesia for crying out loud! The last thing she deserves is to have me take advantage of her by snooping through her private things._ _But… chances like this don't come up every day. And what about her amnesia? If it lasts, whatever I find might be the thing she needs to remind her of who she really is. I might actually be helping her out by looking…_

Before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes forward through the wall of clothing and into a small glowing space hidden behind them.

* * *

How much time has passed? A minute? An hour? He can't be sure. All he knows is that he doesn't know anything at all. He wonders if maybe he was the one hit on the head and this is all just a crazy dream. Finally, he takes a step closer and kneels down, really looking at what's before him.

There's a statue of sorts, a pile of random things that resemble…himself? A block of cheese carved in a distinctively oblong shape with olives on toothpicks poking out, sits on top of a cracked garden gnome missing its head. There are several plastic fork heads poking out of the cheese block in a line along the top with a miniature baseball helmet sitting in the middle of them. _Must've been her ice cream dish from the ball game our class went to last week_ , he muses. Why he focuses on that detail, he doesn't know, maybe he's trying to hold his grasp on clear, untainted reality, rather than the potential reality where everything he's ever known is wrong.

He takes a deep breath, _I_ have _to be dreaming_ , he decides. So he might as well explore a little so Gerald can explain to him what he's subconsciously thinking. _Gerald, ha, like I could really tell him about a dream I had where I think Helga loves me, he took it so well when I told him the dream I had about us getting married…_

His uncertainty about telling Gerald aside, he proceeds to explore this apparent temple dedicated to him. _Maybe I fell sleep reading my dad's journal again. It would make some sort of sense…to mix up the semi-worship the green eyes have for me and the chaos of Helga's amnesia. Yea, that must be what happened._

He looks to the left and sees a tape player and a pile of recorded cassettes. Not wanting to risk waking Helga, even in his dream, he decides not to hit the play button and turns instead to his right. He sees a library of sorts. There is a full row of books, but there is one missing, he notices. A slightly dusty spot is open in the middle of the shelf, the exact size of the other books, the _same_ books… _huh. There must be at least twenty books here, and they're all the exact same size and shade of pink. What book series has every single book looking exactly the same? And what story could Helga love so much that she has every book from the series and keeps it hidden in the back of her closet?_

He reaches for one and can't place why it feels so familiar in his hands. He opens it and he stops breathing. His eyes go wide.

 _"Oh orzo-shaped Prometheus; wandering dim hallways of my…"_

The words confuse him a bit. _Prometheus? What does that even mean?_ He focuses on the meaning of this word over anything else; he's trying his best not to admit to himself that he knows this handwriting, studied it, in fact. And as that thought seeps into his mind, passed the wall he was trying to erect to keep the truth out, he admits that knows exactly why this little pink book is so familiar to him. He flips the page, unable to keep himself from reading more. Page after page. Book after book. He's so absorbed in the words about himself that he forgets where he is. Forgets that he needs to be getting home. Forgets that the author of all these words is _Helga_.

He jumps, broken out of his reverie by a booming thud. _What was that noise? A door!_ Panic sets in immediately. What if Helga catches him in here? What if Big Bob finds him in his daughter's closet? As quietly as he possibly can, he creeps out of the closet, through Helga's darkened room, and out to the hallway as fast as he can. He doesn't look back and he doesn't have to. The image of what he found back there will be engrained into is memory _forever_ , he has no doubt. He walks down the stairs as casually as one can with a racing heart and a cold sweat forming.

"Oh, hi there, um…"

"Arnold," he supplies, breathing a sigh of relief. Helga's mom.

"Right…Arnold."

He tells her quickly about Helga's accident at school that day and tells her he'll be back to check on her in the morning. Rushing out the door, his mind falters. _Tomorrow? Why did I say that? How can I look her in the face knowing I've gone through her closet?_ He feels like a terrible person as he walks home, hoping that Helga's amnesia lasts for more than one day. Suddenly, he perks up. _I forgot! I'm only dreaming!_ Breathing a sigh of relief, he relaxes and keeps heading home. There's a skip in his step, satisfied that even though it's only a dream, he survived the Patakis without a scratch and won't have to face Helga after a "discovery" like that one.

* * *

"That you, Short Man?"

"Yeah Grandpa, it's me" Arnold says, humming a little tune as he enters the boarding house.

"What's got you so cheery? Weren't you at your little friend's house? The one who skips rope outside with the one eyebrow?" Phil asks with a suggestive smile.

"Yea I was," he explains, oblivious to the twinkle in his grandfather's eye, "and I found this crazy thing in her closet, and I was really scared she would pound me for seeing it. But then I realized that I was actually dreaming! So it's all ok! Isn't that great, Grandpa?" he asks, still humming his little ditty.

"Dreaming, huh?" He scratches his chin with a pensive look on his face. "What _exactly_ did you see in her closet, Short Man?"

"Well, there was this sort of shrine in the back of her closet, behind all of her clothes…" Phil looks at him thoughtfully, wondering how exactly his grandson ended up that deep in the girl's closet, let alone why that feisty hellion let him waltz right in there. "…and then I realized it was the same as the pink book Gerald and I found a few months back, isn't that crazy? Well, not too crazy I guess, since this is all a dream, but still funny how my brain made all that up as an explanation…" _Funny how your brain made up the explanation that you're dreaming you mean…sheesh, he's worse than I was!_ "So then I said bye to her mom and here I am!" Arnold finished with a smile.

Phil continued to stare at his grandson. "Eh, I don't know how to break this to you there, Short Man…" Arnold's smile faltered at the hesitancy of his grandpa's words. "…but you're not dreaming. Crazy as it all sounds, and as much as I can't imagine why that girl would let you anywhere near her closet if what you say you saw is really in there," _and I wouldn't doubt it for a second if I know that girl like I think I do_ "but this is all really happening. You're not asleep, Arnold."

He looks disbelievingly at his grandfather for a minute before a smile slips on his lips. Then a wide grin. And then he's laughing, so hard that he has to wipe tears from his eyes.

 _That poor boy. He's totally lost it._

Arnold keeps laughing for several minutes before he finally wears himself out and lets his smile fall. He glances up to see a very serious face on his grandfather. Was that, _pity?_ His heart somehow stops and begins racing at the same time. "Grandpa…" he starts. "Please tell me you're joking. This can _not_ be real. There is _no way_ that tonight actually happened. That I saw… In Helga's closet I saw…" he drops off, seeing the truth in the older man's face.

"Grandpa what am I going to _do_?" he shrieks, now in full-blown panic. "Helga is going to _kill_ me when she finds out!"

"Well, I always did tell you that I thought she liked ya, Short Man."

"Helga does _not_ —" he started out of habit, then cut himself short. His eyes went wide. "Grandpa! I… she… This can _not_ be happening!" He looks up with pleading eyes, begging his grandfather to reassure him that it was all a big trick. To tell him that he _was_ actually dreaming and he'd wake up tomorrow with Helga scowling at him, shooting spit balls at him, and knowing full well who he is, having never experienced amnesia in her life.

No such luck.

"Remember when I told you about the girl who was always picking on me when I was a lad, Short Man?"

* * *

A/N: Part two is coming! Until then, please let me know how I'm doing!


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! or any of these amazing characters. I just get to play with them for a little bit.

A/N: Here it is: Part Two! This takes place during the episode "Beaned" where Helga gets amnesia from being hit in the head by a baseball. The chronology doesn't exactly line up with the show (I reference a few episodes that may not have happened at that point in the show) but for my first attempt at this, I'm focusing more on creating an interesting story that holds true to the characters as we know them. I have this about 90% finished and hope to have the second half up soon! Please R&R so I can get better!

Anything underlined is directly quoted from the show-those are not my words! Everything else you can completely blame me for.

* * *

 _Grandma is Gertie._

It's been over an hour since his Grandpa had finished telling him the _full_ story about little Gertie who teased him as a child. Overwhelmed by it all, he makes his way to the roof for some fresh air.

 _The girl who picked on Grandpa for all of his childhood is now his wife, and has been for decades._ He didn't even know how to process that.

Sighing, he felt himself sliding further down the wall until he hit the ground. He sat there for several minutes, just looking toward the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of an errant star before his brain could finally string together a few coherent thoughts.

 _Ok, so first, Helga has amnesia, and that's my fault._ He counts that off on one of his fingers. _Second, she apparently likes me, a lot._ He gulps, putting another finger out. _Third, she's the one who wrote those old poems about me;_ another finger; _fourth, she has a little statue made of me in her closet; there's_ several _books of poems about me in there; Grandpa has always said she liked me; and she treats me the exact way that my Grandma treated Grandpa as kids and now they're_ married _!_

He was getting hysterical as the facts swept through his brain. Getting up and pacing the length of the roof he begins talking to himself.

"Okay, okay, so what do I do now? If Helga secretly lo— _like_ likes me," he couldn't quite get himself to say _love_ just yet; it was an awful lot of information to handle in such a short time span. "…then why does she torture me all the time? And why does she hide it?"

"Because she's scared, Kimba."

"Grandma?" he turns to his see her top half sticking out of his skylight, looking pensively out toward Big Barney.

"She has a reputation to keep and is afraid of what people will think if she shows her softer emotions too."

He stares at her, watching her lost in thought as if she was watching her own childhood play out on face of that clock tower. And then he sees it too, a young Gertie, calling a young Phil names like "popsicle chin" and making fun of his batting stance. Slowly, the image in his brain is replaced by that of Helga, hears her calling him "hair boy" and talking about his "loopy plays" at football practice.

He smiles. Shaking himself out of his reverie he asks her, "So what do I do, Grandma? I mean, I've always known Helga was more than just a bully, but if she doesn't want people to know, what do I _do_?"

"Be like the frog in the pond, Kimba. Let her come to you when she's ready. Eleanor is a strong girl; she might surprise you."

"I think that's all she does…" he mutters mostly to himself.

"Well," her tone lifts from the quiet, pensive one she had been speaking in, "where's the fun in life if there's no surprises?" she asks with a loud cackle that is muffled by the explosive sounds of fireworks.

She disappears back into Arnold's room as he chuckles at her and shakes his head. He hadn't noticed the fuse she had lit while they were talking.

 _Surprises huh? Well, confusing as she may be, Helga is definitely not boring to be around. And there are times when I actually really like her, when she lets me see that part of her that's not a bully…_

Long after the fireworks fade, he makes his way into his room, crawls into bed, and turns off the light.

 _Helga_ likes _me likes me…_

It's his last thought as sleep finally overtakes him.

* * *

He had woken up with an anticipation he wouldn't have expected. He was actually _excited_ to see Helga, to see how she would treat him. He wanted to see if he would be able to read the truth behind her taunts. It made sense actually, and his sleeping brain had helped him connect the pieces. He still didn't really understand why she felt the need to hide her real feelings, but like he had once explained to Patty, he was sure it had something to do with her own insecurities.

Arnold shakes himself out of the memory as he leads Helga to class. He can't help but smile to himself as she fights Rhonda to keep him as her geography buddy. _I think her subconscious still knows what she likes, even with the amnesia._

He sighs, trying to keep up the appearance of being frustrated at spending time with her. "On second thought Rhonda, I think I better work with Helga today," he says in his best I'm-responsible-so-you-should-trust-me-on-this voice. _It's actually really interesting to see how she treats me when she's not able to pretend to be a bully._

After Rhonda finally concedes, he sits down to read Helga their geography chapter for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. _At least she can't fall asleep this time, not that I'm complaining exactly; I mean, how different would today be if I hadn't found all that stuff in her closet? And Grandma made a good point, she definitely makes life more fun and interesting with her constant surprises…_

He was still determined to see her non-bully side though—to hear the truth come from her, instead of stumbling on it himself. But he knew this wasn't the time. She wasn't ready yet, and quite frankly, neither was he. Everything he had ever known _had_ just changed in a matter of minutes, after all.

 _Grandma is right. I'll let her come to me when she's ready. And whenever that is, I hope I'll be ready to hear it too._

* * *

The day passes in a bit of a blur. He's never had amnesia before, but it seems strange to him that Helga doesn't know how to use doors and spoons, but managed to get her locker open and didn't need Phoebe to help her use the bathroom. _I guess amnesia is more complicated than I realized,_ he innocently ponders as he leaves her at the water fountain to grab his books.

He returns a minute later to walk her home but before he can even get a grasp on what's happening, she's laying in a puddle on the ground, holding her head.

"Helga! Helga, are you ok?"

"I'm fine Arnold; now give me a little breathing room, would ya?"

His heart stops for a second, _she_ never _calls me Arnold; is it possible to make amnesia worse?_ "Did you just call me 'Arnold'?"

"That's right, Football-Head." Relief had never been so tangible in his life. _She's ok!_ "Now quit hovering over me and help me up!"

" _Football-Head!" She called me "Football-Head!"_ He had to stop himself from throwing his arms around her in glee. _Never thought I'd be happy to hear that… Focus! You need to explain!_ "Helga, I know this is gonna be hard for you to believe, but you got hit on the head with a baseball and you've had amnesia for the past two days. You couldn't remember anything!"

"Hmm. Well, come to think of it, I guess I might feel a little bit weird." She rubs her head again as she looks to the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought.

"I think you oughta go home and lie down. I'll walk you, okay?"

"You don't have to do that Arnold; I told you, I'm fine."

 _Huh. Is it weird that I think it's weird when she actually uses my real name? Wait, do I actually_ like _her calling me Football-Head?_ He stops himself from letting his mind wander down that path just yet; _one thing at a time_.  "I know I don't _have_ to, Helga. I _want_ to. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Well, uh, thanks I guess."

"It's no problem." He reaches down to pick up her fallen books, but she snatches them back before he gets a chance to tuck them under his arm.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

 _Well, I guess the nice attitude and wanting me around has certainly passed…_ "I was gonna carry your books."

"I said you could walk me _pal_ ; I didn't say you could get all mushy!"

"Sorry." _Yep, she's back to normal alright._

"You _should_ be."

He opens the door and waits for her to pass through. _Well, at least she's ok. It's going to be hard to remember that this is all an act from her—she does it so well! I guess she must have been doing this for a while now though; I wonder how long? Maybe someday I'll find out._

He sneaks a peak at her, trying not to turn his head. She's looking away from him a bit, but he thinks he sees a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. He smiles. _Yea, someday._

Enjoying their quiet company, he breaks the silence by whistling a happy tune, earning a questioning glance from Helga. He pretends not to notice and continues on. _Until then, I'll let her play her games. Helga_ has _always made my life more interesting, and now that I know what I know…well..._ He sneaks one more glance in her direction.

 _Looks like it'll only get more exciting from here…_

* * *

A/N: And that's a wrap! I have an idea of how to continue this story, and I probably will at some point. For now, please R&R to let me know what you think! And a big THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed-you're encouragement has been amazing!


	3. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! or any of these amazing characters. I just get to play with them for a little bit.

A/N: I said in the last part that I had an idea for a continuation and after setting the story aside for all of one day, Arnold just wasn't having it! He wanted the rest of this story told now, so y'all get the epilogue a lot sooner than I anticipated. I hope you enjoy!

Anything underlined is directly quoted from the show-those are not my words! Everything else you can completely blame me for.

* * *

"Now, we've got to get you safely out of the building. If you're caught now, all is lost."

Arnold turns the corner, listening intently with the phone still pressed to his ear as he tries to figure out _where_ Deep Voice could possibly be. And then he spots him, a shadowed figure lurking just outside a nearby door. _There he is!_

"Uh, Deep Voice, tell me _how_ I can get out of here," he says, in reply to the all-too-obvious previous comment. _Just stay on the phone; I just need you to talk for_ one _minute and I'll be able to get to you before you notice I'm gone…_

"Ok Arnold, listen, you've got to wait until the guards have gone to the other side of the building…"

 _Yes!_ Arnold drops the phone and walks toward the door to the roof. He can still hear the muffled sound of his voice coming through the phone as it rests on the floor. Looking through the glass, he hesitates for just a second before throwing the door open. "Deep Voice!"

The figure turns, further silhouetted by the lightning flashing behind him. "Don't come another step closer. Pay no attention to that man with the voice box."

 _As if that was actually an option, who does this guy think he is?_ He narrows his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Uh… Uh… No one in particular." The figure waves his hands in front of his face, trying to keep Arnold from getting a direct glance.

He's had enough. Maybe if he wasn't in the middle of the most stressful day of his life, Arnold wouldn't have lost his patience for this man, but neither of them were so lucky. He doesn't care if this is the president of the United States—this man has him on his last nerve, regardless that he _has_ been helping them out this entire time. "No more games, Deep Voice. I'm not doing _anything_ until I know who you are."

He steps forward, slowly backing the man into a corner of the roof. Nearing the edge, the man gets caught up and slips. "Oh!" he exclaims as his back hits the wall and he falls to the ground, his identity finally revealed.

What seems like an eternity passes as Arnold stares at her. _Her._ When conscious thoughts resume, they come directly out his mouth, "Helga?! You? _You're_ Deep Voice?" His mind has locked up on him but he's doing everything he can to fight it and make sense of this situation.

"Huh huh, looks like it," she drops the voice box mid-sentence revealing her non-masculine pitch, further proving the reality of the situation.

"But I don't get it. How come…how come you couldn't just tell me what you knew? Why'd you have to make up all this crazy secret identity?" _I knew she was good at hiding secrets, but this is insane!_

"No reason."

 _You've got to be kidding me._ The stress and frustration are back, winning out over shock for the moment. "But Helga, you just risked everything to help me save the neighborhood."

"So, what's your point?" she replies with her usual attitude, seeming to have finally regained her composure after being discovered.

 _Oh, no. No. Not this game again. I am_ not _letting her take control that easy._ "That's a pretty amazing thing to do for someone you claim to hate." _That's right, Helga._ He challenges her in his mind. _I said "_ claim _to hate" …how are you gonna field that one?_

"Yeah, well, I'm a pretty amazing person, Football-Head."

He sighs internally. _Can't argue with you there…_ "But I…" _Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. I_ have _spent the last several weeks trying to see if she'd let anything slip accidentally. Maybe I need a different approach._ "I thought you were on your dad's side. I thought you were gonna get rich off the whole deal."

"Money isn't everything." She looks away from him.

Another internal sigh; _geez, she's stubborn._ "Helga, why'd you do it?" _Am I really doing this? Now? Am I really going to press her? Am I going to make her tell me? Right here?_

"It…it's my civic duty."

"Helga." _What am I doing? Maybe I need to let her tell me herself; do I really want to force her to say it?_

"…'Cause I love a good mystery?"

Her blatant lies push his frustration to overrule his concerns about pressing her too far. His stress level has been through the roof and he finally snaps. "Oh come on!" he all but yells at her. "What's the real reason?"

"Oh I don't know Arnoldo, I guess maybe I just took pity on you and your stupid friends!" she lashes back, seeming a bit like a caged animal.

"Well, why?" he backs off a little, sensing she's nearing an emotional edge.

"Because…uh, 'cause maybe I don't hate you as much as I thought, okay?" _Did she just…? Is she actually going to admit that she likes me likes me?_ "I guess… maybe I… I even kind of… like you a little. Heck, I guess you might even kinda say I like you a lot."

 _She said it! She actually said it; I can't believe it! Remember—I have to be surprised! She'll_ kill _me if she knew I already knew because I_ went through her closet… _crush or not, Helga G. Pataki would not let_ anyone _live who invaded her privacy._ He gulps,  "You do? You did this for me?"

"That's right, Hair Boy! I mean, criminy! What else are you supposed to do when someone you love is in trouble?"

 _Wait, what?_ "Love?" There is nothing forced about the shock on his face this time. _I know her poems said... And in her closet.. But I… I…_

"You heard me pal, I love you! Love you! Who else do you think has been stalking you night and day, building shrines to you in a closet, filling volumes of books with poems about you." He knows this, he _knows_ he knows this, he's seen it with his own eyes, but she's telling him, _more like yelling it at me actually_.  "I love you, Arnold! I've always loved you—ever since I first laid eyes on your stupid football head." The words are freely flowing out of her mouth and as much as he wanted to hear them from her, as much as he pushed her to say them, it's _too_ much. _She's_ too much.  "And from that moment and every moment since, I've lived and breathed for you dreamed of the moment I could finally tell you my secret feelings, could grab you and kiss you and…" She's being sweet and loving and gentle. _Do I even know her at all?_ He feels like he's trying to drink form a fire hydrant and is drowning instead of being refreshed. "…oh, come here you big lug!"

She grabs his shoulders and yanks him forward so fast that he doesn't even have time to realize what's happening before her lips are on his and his brain shuts down entirely. It takes him several seconds to recover before he can pull himself from her grasp and try to figure out what just happened.

"I'm confused." He blinks a few times holding his head, doing everything he can to get his brain functioning again. "Did you just say you _love_ me?"

"What are you deaf?" she yells at him.

He finds some relief in her tone. That's _the Helga I know. She's harsh and rough and mean. I mean, yes, she's good and nice too, I always knew that, but.. but…_

Loud static cuts through his thoughts as he hears Gerald call his name, "Arnold!"

Before he can even process where Gerald's voice had come from, Helga has grabbed the walkie talkie from his side and yells into it, "Not now!"

"'Not now?' Who the.." Gerald's reply gets cut off as Helga tosses the walkie over her shoulder and turns her attentions back to Arnold.

"Oh Arnold, just hold me." She reaches for him and attempts to wrap her arms around him. He sees her face coming near his again and he panics, ducking out of the way he grabs his head and looks up at her.

"I… I—I—I, I need to think…" _She's trying to kiss me. She_ did _kiss me. We've kissed before, but that was acting, that wasn't_ us _…_

"Yes, I suppose you'll have to do the thinking for both of us now, darling." She manages to get her arms around him this time and runs a hand through his hair. He freezes in her embrace, terrified of how she's holding him, but not entirely hating it either. _Get it together!_ When she leans in for a third time, he snaps out of it and ducks out of her arms again.

"Whoa. This is all happening too fast. I feel…" He looks up, seeing two Helga's in front of him. The bully he's known for all of his life; the owner of Old Betsy and The Five Avengers; the tormentor of the entire fourth grade; the iron-fist of the playground; the girl who has single-handedly made his life a nightmare for years. And this new, loving, sweet, gentle, poetic, feminine girl who genuinely cares for him and _has_ apparently, from the first day she met him nearly seven years ago.  "I feel dizzy. I need to lie down."

"Wonderful; I'll go with you."

Realizing her arms are yet again wrapped around him, he nearly shouts at her, "No! I mean, there's no time for that!" _"No time for that?" What am I even saying?_ But something had finally registered in his brain, the reason why they were on this roof to begin with, the reason why this conversation even started.  "We've got twenty minutes to get back to the neighborhood before the bulldozers roll!"

"Bulldozers?" she asks in her same dreamy tone.

He pauses at the confusingly-feminine sweetness. _Later. I'll figure this all out later._ His urgency and the survival of the neighborhood had finally returned to the forefront of his mind and they needed to get going. Now.

"Helga. The neighborhood? We have. To save. The neighborhood." He punctuates his sentence very clearly, trying to snap her out of it. He needs her to be back to her old self—the one who is a leader of their class and can make people do what she wants with just a look. He needs the Helga who can scheme her way into and out of things better than anyone he knows. He pulls the grappling hook from his side, "Come on let's roll."

* * *

At least thirty minutes have passed and Arnold finds himself standing on Vine Street surveying the wreckage around him. They were alive—which was probably the most miraculous part of the whole day, considering _they_ had to drive the bus that was _jumping holes in the overpass_. But they had done it: the mayor had declared their neighborhood a historic landmark and no one had to see their homes or shops destroyed.

He turns to see Murray make his way out of the over-turned bus, only to be confronted by Mona. It's a very sweet moment actually, as the two declare their love for each other and embrace. He's glad to see the heartbroken man finally got what he we wanted so badly. It's not until he glances right to see Helga watching the scene as well, that this touching sight suddenly makes him feel very uncomfortable.

 _I still don't even know how to handle this just yet. What am I supposed to do from here? Is everything going to change? I'm not ready for that yet; I'm still adjusting to the fact that she has feelings for me in secret. I'm definitely not ready for her to be sweet and caring_ all the time _like she was on the roof! Didn't we just save the neighborhood from change? How is it possible that everything is_ still _changing even though it's not?_

He sighs to himself. _No way to know but to face it, I guess._ He looks at her more directly and plunges in. "Pretty crazy day…" he starts, nervously rubbing his arm.

She turns to him, a content smile on her face from watching the reunion play out in the street. "Yea we uh…ooh…" her eyes widen as she seems to realize herself what is about to be addressed. "…said a lot of really nutty things back there…"

"Yea…" _Okay, so we both know what we're talking about…is she freaked out too? She seems kinda off…but this whole thing has brought out a side of her I don't know how to read…_

"Uh yea. Oh, well, um…" _Is she…scared? Is Helga G. Pataki_ nervous _? About_ me _?_ "About all that stuff I said, Arnold. I—uh… I mean…" _Maybe I did push her too far back there. She's calling me 'Arnold' for crying out loud! Maybe she's not ready for everything to change yet either…_ "It was crazy back there and…"

"Yea, with all the excitement we just…" _Man, how do I fix this?_ He rubs the back of his neck, nervously looking down.  "We just kinda…"

"Uh… got carried away?"

His heart rate picks up as he realizes she's trying to downplay it all. _Really? Yes! I can make this work…_ "You didn't really mean all that, did you?" _Come on Helga, take the bait._ "You don't really _love_ me right?" He looks her in the eye, trying to lead her with his words.

"Right." She says it a bit hesitantly, as if trying to figure out how to handle the situation herself.

"You were just…" he pauses for a second, choosing his words very carefully he continues, "…caught up in the heat of the moment, right?"

"Right!" she exclaims, seeming to catch on now.

 _Okay, time to seal the deal._ "You actually _hate_ me don't you?" With a significant look in his eye, he leans in close. _Come on Helga, this is where we agree to keep our world the same. We need the stability. You love playing games; play this one with me. Come on…_

She turns away from him and for a second his stomach drops. _Oh no, did I upset her? Did I push too far the other way now? I don't want to hurt her…_ But before he can finish the thought she's whipped around again and is yelling at him, in the most comfortingly-familiar tone, "Of _course_ I hate you, you stupid football-head! And don't you ever forget it!" She pokes a finger sharply in his direction,  "Ever!"

Relief floods his body at her words. _Thank God! She's not mad at me! And we're back to normal! We can pretend for now that this isn't happening and we can both take some time to let all of this sink in more. Ah..._ "—h, okay," he replies; his thoughts blurring into his words.

He straightens up and visibly relaxes as a mere second passes where they look at each other, knowing that they both know the truth. They both know her feelings and they are both going work together to keep it under wraps.

Then, as quickly as it came, the moment is broken as Helga stomps off, fully embracing the truce they've called. He can't help but smirk as she goes. _What an interesting girl. I never know what to expect from her. At least we_ are _on the same page every once in a while, though._

He watches her disappear behind a building as a full smile takes over his face. _So she has some pretty intense feelings for me, and I'm not ready for that yet, but she doesn't really seem ready for that yet either, so we're ok. She's ok. I mean, I think we understand each other pretty well._

His mind continues putting together how well the complement each other, even with all of their differences, as Gerald approaches. _Well, at least he didn't hear any of that. There's no way he would have let that slide without trying to find out every detail. Especially since he hasn't asked how Helga ended up with us to begin with…guess I'll need to figure out what to tell him about that too. Eventually he's going to remember to ask…_

They walk through the debris on Vine Street toward the park and Arnold can't help but take one last glimpse over his shoulder. He fakes a cough to cover the snort that had made its way out. She's skipping down the street away from them with her arms thrown in the air. _Is she_ singing _?_

He turns back to Gerald, continuing their conversation on autopilot. _Basketball is a great, Gerald, but I think my favorite game is whatever Helga and I are playing…_

 _Helga G. Pataki. Bully, friend, tormenter, helper, angry, kind, loud, sweet, brash, loving, tomboy, poet…_ The words all pass through his mind in less than a second, and he finally thinks he can see that missing piece of the puzzle he had never been able to place.

 _Grandpa was right._

 _Grandma was right._

 _Maybe Helga is right, too._

 _Maybe someday, all of these pieces will finally come together._

Unnoticed by even himself, a smile creeps across his face. _I mean really, who wins against Helga Pataki anyway?_

* * *

A/N: That's it! Please R&R to let me know what you think! In the meantime, I'll try to cook up some other ideas for my next piece!


End file.
